


step into the sun

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, But mostly fluff, First Day of School, Fluff, M/M, Some angst, Tree Bros, What else is new, anyway goodbye now, could be taken as a hint of kleinsen??, evan does poetry, evan is kinda ooc, hes still kinda anxious tho, i made his anxiety more generalized than social, i need to write hcs for that, im super insecure abt this lmao rip, jared and evan are actual friends, jared still insists on the family friend thing, jesus this is long, like for real, listen i love them both, literally finished this last night at 5 am, ok there is angst, we all see right through you kleinman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 05:03:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11776071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Do you want my number?”Connor blinked once, then twice before his lips upturned into a grin. “You know, I think the right way to ask it is ‘Can I haveyournumber’ but sure, I guess. Whatever works for you.”alternatively: Evan does the opposite of what he sings about in "Waving Through a Window" and stepsintothe sun. Without getting burned.





	step into the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Are you worth your weight in gold?  
> 'Cause you're behind my eyelids when I'm all alone.  
> Hey stranger, I want ya to catch me like a cold,  
> You and god both got the guns,  
> When you shoot I think I'd duck.
> 
> (hurricane - panic! at the disco)
> 
> ((owo btw if this looks familiar its a rewrite of a fic i posted - had up for like a day - and then deleted so!! enjoy!!

sunshine

 

sun·shine

 

\\-ˌshīn/

 

_noun_

1\. The sun's light or direct rays.

 

2\. The warmth and light given by the sun's rays.

 

3\. A spot or surface on which the sun's light shines.

 

 _4\. Someone or something (such as a person, condition, or influence) that radiates warmth, cheer, or happiness._ _  
_

* * *

 

Connor Murphy wasn't the type of guy to stay up late thinking about life. Death? Sure. Life? Very unlikely.

But it was happening and he was despising every passing second of it.

The clock ticking only made the matters worse, it made his ears ring and his jaw clench in unbearable annoyance. His eyes narrowed, glaring holes into that _damned_ thing on the wall, as if his stare is going to _telepathically_ turn it off.

At this point he gave up on sleeping, aimlessly staring at the ceiling as thoughts rushed through his mind. He just hoped to whoever controls time that they make it pass _faster_ than the irritatingly slow pace it was at right now.

First day of senior year. There's not a better day to be sleep deprived? Right?

It was amazing how easy it was for insomnia to kick his ass. At the moment he felt like he could climb a tree but in the morning he’ll probably feel like he climbed a whole mountain. Or two.

Zoe would always tell him “tired” is his constant state - which is true, but before he accepted it as a joke it was kind of a hurtful reminder that he isn't really, as usual, _okay._

Connor blinked, tearing his gaze off of the clock. He reached for his phone which was usually on his nightstand - but then realized, _oh,_ it wasn't there.

The lack of his mobile phone was an irritating aftermath of his fight with Larry - his dad and the head of the house - who didn't really “appreciate” Connor's tone while he was speaking to him. And Connor knew he would get his phone back in the morning, but it still bothered him that he was treated like a toddler.

Connor’s lips parted, a stressed sigh passing through his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, untying a few knots here and there. He stuffed both his hands under the pillow, continuing his previous duty of aimlessly staring at the dark ceiling.

Hopefully 6 am will arrive soon.

_I'm going to try my best today._

There was a tiniest bit of hope blossoming in his chest.

* * *

 

The chilling air crawled up Evan's arm through his _unfortunately_ too-thin-to-handle-rain jacket, which was now soaked and dripping with water. He cast a glance to the dark sky, harsh murky greys mixing with a bit lighter shades of the same color, making it look like it came out of an old movie from the 1930s. The dullness of it reflected the one in his eyes, and he winced when one offending drop of rain hit him right above his eyebrow. He reached to wipe it with his sleeve but figured _this_ wasn't really a situation where the old “fight fire with fire” saying _actually_ works. His shaky fingers grazed across his forehead as he banished the raindrop that rested there. It was useless though, considering that his hair was also soaked, he would very likely be getting some water into his eyes either way.

He had somehow kept his cast from getting drenched by tucking it underneath his free arm. It still got a bit wet, but at least it wasn't _soaked._

The sound of rain hitting the sidewalk is both calming and annoying - especially on the parts of the road that are covered with leaves. Speaking of wet leaves, there was one stuck on Evan's left shoe. He hasn't noticed it, but once he did, his nose scrunched up in distaste. He plucked it off carefully, wiping his hand against his jeans. Also soaked.

A sigh passed through his barely parted lips and his warm breath turned into vapor in the cold autumn air. Tapping the top of his shoe against the pavement created a soothing melody and calmed his nerves, working as some sort of a distraction.

First day of school was always fuel for his anxiety. One wrong move, one wrong word and everything comes crashing down. One bad look and his confidence is shattered in pieces, and _of course,_ the therapy wasn't helping a lot. Before he left for school he typed for about 15 minutes about everything that could go wrong.

He coughed, the cold weather already getting to him. He hoped he wouldn't get sick on the first day of school since not showing up the first week would _definitely_ mess up his image as a good student. Besides, the first week is always the week of meeting new people - _and_ sorting them by groups. The ones to avoid who would usually be the bullies, creepy or stoner kids. Then there were the nerds, the goths, the populars, etc. It was sorted like most schools are, or the ones you've seen in movies. And Evan didn't know which group he belonged to.

The anxious thoughts only began to grow stronger once the generic bright yellow bus entered his sight, standing out in the monotone atmosphere of grey clouds and the grey street. Evan dusted himself off - except there was no dust to dust off, just droplets of water - and then embraced himself for the anxiety inducing process that is entering the school bus for the first time ever.

The bus stopped abruptly, the brakes creaking - which sent an unpleasant feeling down Evan's spine. Although Evan couldn't see anything from the outside due to the dark windows, he just hoped some seats were empty and he won't have to stand the whole ride. The two sides of the door slid open, revealing for Evan to catch a glimpse of the bus driver. He had a ridiculous moustache and many wrinkles, and no hair sticking out from under the blue hat that sat on his head - which indicated he was probably old.

Gulping down his fear, Evan somehow walked in without tripping over the two steps, politely and without stuttering greeted the bus driver - who just gave a curt nod in return - and then it was time for anxiety to show up.

The first few seats in his range of sight were completely packed so he warily made his way towards the end of the bus. In most basic situations, the back of the bus was where all the older, popular kids would sit, but thankfully for Evan, that wasn't the case here.

While making his way further down, he catched an eye of another student - who very politely called Evan over to sit in an empty seat next to him.

With slight hesitation, Evan did exactly that, plopping down on the leather seat. The stranger took out one of his earbuds, giving Evan a look over with his eyes.

Growing a tiny bit uncomfortable under the other's gaze, Evan gave the most pathetic smile, inwardly hoping that it looked at least close to genuine. “Uh, hi.”

The other boy - Evan was now more sure of the fact this person was a boy - cocked an eyebrow with a grin. His eyes flicked to Evan's arm, and only then Evan noticed he left his sleeve rolled up, leaving it for everyone to see his empty, bland cast. Though it was basic - and it was pretty sad that there were absolutely no names on it - that didn't really seem to interest the other boy since he instantly shot out: “Nice cast.”

“Um, thanks.” Evan managed, glancing to the stranger and then back at the “cement cage” on his arm.

“Can I sign it?”

Evan blinked, unsure if he heard the sentence correctly. “Uh, c-can, can you repeat that? I don't think I caught it-”

“Can I sign it?” There was an uncomfortable pause and then: “Can I sign your cast, I mean. It looks like no one signed it, unless I’m wrong and someone actually signed it in invisible ink.”

Evan laughed breathlessly, now realizing what the other boy meant. With a slight blush of embarrassment, he nodded, reaching for his sharpie in the side pocket of his backpack that his mother stored for him before he left. “Of course you can sign it. I…” he started, silently. “I don't really have friends.” As soon as he blurted out those words he slapped a hand to his mouth in regret, “I - I mean, I do! I have Jared and Jared is my friend, though he insist I call him a “ family friend” which I don’t understand and-” he came to an abrupt stop, pressing his lips in a thin line, “-I’m rambling, sorry.” Handing the sharpie over, he extended his hand and rolled up his sleeve some more to reveal his cast in a whole piece.

The other took it without a word, popping the cap open and putting his hand over the back of Evan's, making the other flush in his cheeks.

With pursed lips, he started writing in gigantic letters: C...O...N...N...O...R.

The stranger - _Connor -_ handed the marker over to Evan with a blank expression, and only then, when Evan really looked at his face, he noticed the big eyebags that sat under Connor's eyes. Evan frowned, internally hoping the other didn't realize. He pocketed his sharpie back to his pocket, warily eyeing the lettering on his cast. He reached towards it, tracing his fingers against the black letters.

The uncomfortable silence was cast over the pair and even the noise in the bus seemed to almost disappear.

“You know, I don't have friends either.” Connor suddenly began, running a hand through his long, wavy hair. Evan envied the fact that Connor could pull it off because if _he_ were to do it, he'd probably look like he came out of the 60’s. Or the 70’s. Or the 80’s. Whatever the generation it was.

“W-well, you can change that today.”

Connor looks at him with furrowed brows, confusion obvious in his eyes, “What do you mean?”

“I'll be your friend.”

_Stop, no, stop stop stop stop, he doesn't want you._

“Oh. Okay.”

Evan felt as if a huge rock fell off of his chest and he could finally breathe again.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And then Evan is smiling and Connor is smiling back.

The rest of the ride was spent in chatter and Evan learned a lot of things about Connor. Like that his last name was Murphy. And how he had a sister, Zoe, who Evan knew pretty well but never knew about her brother. And to what college he's planning to go to. And how his parents are shit. Little things, but important nonetheless.

Despite how caught up Evan was in a mystery that was Connor Murphy and how much he wished he could talk to him some more, it was _still_ the first day of school. And that is what he should be focusing on right now. School.

With heavy steps he wordlessly sauntered to the school entrance, stepping in a few puddles here and there.

Sighing, he gave the sky the last look before entering the _thankfully_ dry hallways of his high school.

* * *

 

First day of senior year was… interesting.

Turns out Evan actually shares a class - and lunch - with Connor. Turns out Connor is very interested in art. Another small but important thing Evan had learned about him.

They sat at lunch together. Evan waved his hand while Connor's eyes were passing the crowd for an empty place to sit and soon enough he was making his way to the other boy.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“So... Art, huh?”

Connor settled down on the seat opposite of Evan. “What- about it?”

“That's- that’s your interest. Art. You seem to know a lot about it. And you're probably good at it.”

“Oh.”

_Silence._

“Do you have your sharpie?”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Y-yeah. Why?”

“Give it to me. And give me your arm. The one with the cast on it.”

Evan opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He wordlessly reached for his back pocket where he had stored the pitch pen his mom had given him, fidgeting with it before handing it over to Connor and working on pulling up his sleeve.

From then onwards, time slowed down. Lunch break felt like it was going on for ages. Connor was doodling on Evan’s cast, filling up the blanks in o’s with roses and surrounding his name with different types of flowers. He was done before Evan knew it, and there was still time before the bell rang.

“Huh. Art and flowers.”

“What about you? What do _you_ like, Evan?”

 _You,_ Evan thought and then mentally scolded himself for it. _On the first day? Really?_

“Uh… Theatre. I like theatre. And writing.”

“Interesting. Writing what?”

 _Definitely not the letters for my therapy,_ Evan thought but it didn't pass his lips. Instead he murmured a silent: “Poetry.”

Connor nodded in some kind of approvement, wavy curls bouncing as if they came to life. “Wonderful. A sad artist and an anxious poet. I feel like we will get along pretty well, Hansen.”

 _How do you know my last name_ was the question at the tip of Evan's tongue when the bell rang.

* * *

 

No one else signed Evan's cast. Not that he cared. He mindlessly traced the petals of flowers on his cast, along with the letters. This was bad, wasn't it?

* * *

 

Evan hurried to the bus to save himself of the uncomfortable scenario that sitting next to a complete stranger again would be, gripping at the straps of his backpack as he fast-walked to the cliché yellow vehicle. He frowned to himself, _not that there was anything bad about meeting Connor. It was actually nice. I'm just kind of tired of socializing for today._

“Hansen!”

Evan wished he had walked faster. Or brought his headphones.

He slowly turned to the direction the voice, a bit too close to scowling.

“Hey, Jared.”

Jared _Kleinman,_ Evan's so called “family friend” - though why he insisted on the “family” addition was yet to be determined - quickly caught up to the other boy.

“Long time no see!”

“You saw me in history class. And biology. And also-”

“Yeah, right, I got it. Long time no _talk,_ then. That works, smart pants?” When Evan didn't answer - not like he expected him to - Jared continued, “I see your first day is going great. Already made a new friend? Planning on replacing me or something?”

“Me? I wouldn't _dare-”_

Jared let out an audible snort. “Showing some balls, huh? What's got you so bitter?”

Evan shrugged nonchalantly. “Many things. One of them being your presence. What do you want?”

“Ouch. You cut deep, Hansen.” Jared placed a hand over his heart in a fake hurt type of manner. “Is it bad that I want to greet my friend?”

Evan felt himself smile against his own will. Jared was the only person he was completely comfortable with. And also the only person he could be sassy with.

“I've - I've gotta catch my bus and stuff. So, be quick. Please.”

“Alright, sheesh. I wanted to tell you to text me in case of any emergency. Like, during class or after school or anything. I'll ask for a hall pass and come get you. Sounds okay?”

“Yeah, okay. I'm fine though, Jared.”

“Hansen, anxiety isn't something to talk lightly about-”

“I'm fine.” Evan snapped, though regretted it seconds after. “Sorry. I just… I don't feel bad, okay? I feel fine. And like you said, I made a new friend-”

Jared’s eyebrows shot up, “Oh you did? I was joking with you.”

Evan scratched the back of his head as a nervous tick, “Yeah, kind of. We just started talking today. His name is Connor and he's nice.”

“Don't fall too hard, Hansen.”

“S-shut up.”

* * *

 

Next thing he knew, Evan was shoulder to shoulder on the bus with Connor, the same exact scenario from this morning. He had gotten to the bus late - thanks to Jared - and Connor had saved him a seat.

“Hey Connor, talking to you was great but soon I'll have to _van Gogh.”_

Connor blinked once before erupting into snorts and giggles, his hand closing around his mouth which made Evan inwardly frown.

_He is insecure about his smile._

Connor's long eyelashes pressed against his pale cheeks, and despite the eyebags underneath, once he opened his eyes Evan couldn't help but notice the slight shine they held.

“You- you should laugh more.”

Evan's face felt hot and he was suddenly painfully aware of eyes that pressed to the back of his neck, glared holes into his skull and wouldn't let him be.

Connor probably had noticed the slight discomfort because he had stopped laughing - despite Evan's comment - and his eyes gave the other boy an once-over.

Evan's mind went completely numb as he focused on his breathing exercise he had learned in therapy. Inhale - 7 seconds. Hold breath - 4 seconds. Exhale - 8 seconds. Repeat.

After about two minutes of blur in his mind, Evan was again in control and aware of his surroundings - with a simple glance over the bus he realized no one was ever looking at them in the first place.

“I was right.” Connor whispered, half to himself, half to Evan. “You have anxiety.”

Evan worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt color leave his face in horror, “Y-yeah, I do. I'm sorry, I probably should have told you I'm not exactly-”

“Normal?” Connor whispered again as if he was scared someone will hear him.

“Well then, welcome to the club. The only member right now is Mr. Depressed, but we'll pick more up as we go.” There was a liveliness in his voice, as if talking about things like these didn't bother him. Evan examined him before turning his gaze to the floor when Connor looked back. “Y’know, sad sounds better than depressed.”

Evan blanked.

_Oh._

“Do you want my number?”

Connor blinked once, then twice before his lips upturned into a grin. “You know, I think the right way to ask it is ‘Can I have _your_ number’ but sure, I guess. Whatever works for you.”

Evan felt the tips of his ears turning pink. “It's - it's in case you need to, you know. Talk to someone.” He inhaled and then exhaled through pursed lips before smiling awkwardly.

While Evan was reaching for his sharpie, Connor reached for the sleeve of his left arm, hesitated, and then went for the one on his right. Evan said nothing but a frown creeped up his face.

“Y-you want me to write it on your arm?”

Connor nodded.

“That's not healthy for your skin, you know.”

“I'm not healthy either way. So sign me up, doc.”

Evan scribbled on his number and made it as tiny as he could but still readable.

Connor hummed to himself in thought before opening his mouth, “So, what could I give you my number for?”

The question took Evan by surprised and he almost dropped the pen.

Connor snapped his fingers, face lightening up and Evan could visually imagine a lightbulb above his head.

“Got it. I'm gonna give you my number so you could call me in case it rains again and you need a ride.” Evan's mouth parted to ask but he was cut off by Connor _once again,_ “Yeah, I know how to drive.”

Finally the last blank space right below Connor's name was filled and Evan's cast was now all scribbled up. Evan couldn't help but feel a bit warm every time he looked at Connor's name and doodles.

Way sooner than he wanted it to be, Connor was exiting the bus. He had waved to Evan from the door, dropping a casual “I'll see you on the bus.”

Evan stared at the back of his head from the window. His posture was slumped but he still looked really tall and his hair stopped right below his shoulders. His hands were stuffed in his pockets and his backpack was thrown over only one shoulder, radiating an obvious “I literally don't give a shit” vibe. Evan liked it.

_Oh there it was again._

Tracing the drawings on his cast, Evan noticed the only flower other than a rose that looked familiar.

A sunflower.

(Evan would've sworn the tiniest bit of sunlight peeked from the gray clouds.)

* * *

 

 **TO:** cast boy [7:36 pm]

_so, hows the weathercast looking for tomorrow,, did u watch the news?_

_  
_

**FROM:** cast boy [7:38 pm]

_Yeah. There's a 70% chance for rain._

 

 **TO:** cast boy [7:39 pm]

_aw damn thats super close to my favourite number_

 

 **FROM:** cast boy [7:41 pm]

_Any specific reason 71 is your favourite number?_

 

 **TO:** cast boy [7:42 pm]

_you r a gem, hansen_

**Author's Note:**

> \+ me, emerging from the dead with this nonsense: oh hi thanks for checking in I'm ~still a piece of garbageeee~
> 
> \+ anyWAY - quick shoutout to my best friend first, beta second - [ ash](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fykan/pseuds/fykan) \- for helping me not sound like an illiterate ass 
> 
> \+ thank you for reading! comments n kudos are very appreciated and boost my determination to write more of this nonsense so in case u want me to do that *wink wonk*
> 
> \+ excuse any errors and/or mistakes (which AREN'T my fault ://)
> 
> \+ aight,, thats all for now


End file.
